Johnlock smut, A Caring Hand
by MrAugust1
Summary: After Sherlock saves John's life, he realizes just how much he loves him, but doesn't think he feels the same so when he is sleep deprived and attempts to have sex with him, he is utterly embarrassed.
1. I Love You

John regained consciousness with a pained grunt, some sort of material was tied tightly around his head, blindfolded him, and lengths of rope were strapped forcefully around his wrists multiple times, then down around the chair legs and ended with several intercut wraps between his ankles. He could, though, see about a centimeter underneath of the blindfold and noticed that he was in some sort of carpeted room, and someone was standing a ways in front of him. _Most likely the bad guy. Better not bother him, _John thought_._

His head was spinning and it took him a minute to remember what had happened: Sherlock and himself had been on the trail of a complicated bank heist when someone had grabbed John from behind and used chloroform to knock him out. Now here he was.

With he deep breath he was just about to start thinking about what he was supposed to do, when a sudden commotion erupted from about ten feet in front of him. A voice shouted, "He's here!" then the sound of a body hitting floor followed by rapid footsteps toward John, but before he knew what was happening, the chair in which he was strapped to was knocked over on its side cracking John's head against the ground with a sickening thud.

"Take another step and he dies." A very loud voice growled above him. _What the hell is going on?_ "I said don't move! I mean it!" the man screamed and John realized a gun was trained at his head. _Fuck. _

"Okay," the familiar baritone of Sherlock Holmes smirked, "hey John, you okay?"

"Just peachy you bastard." John answered jokingly, "but I do believe I am tied to a chair am I not?"

John could just imagine that annoying smile on his flat-mate's face. He loved that smile. "Excellent deduction Watson."

With a small smile John figured out what Sherlock was doing: he was buying time for Lestrade to get there. To aid he asked, "Please do tell me it is at least a nice chair?"

There was a sound of a footstep and suddenly John was lifted off the floor and set upright and a gun was point at his head. "What did I tell you!" The voice boomed and John noted that it was the man whom Sherlock had been trailed. The sound of a footstep backwards.

"Sorry, I was simply attempting to hear what my dear Watson just said. I mean he is speaking rather..." A pause. This meant the next word was supposed to mean something, "softly."

John had to speak louder, most likely so Lestrade could find them.

He repeated himself but this time much louder, causing the man who had the gun to his head to smack him with the butt of the weapon and send him sprawling to the floor again.

Just then the sound of a door being kicked in sounded and John estimated that twenty police officers stormed in and started screaming "lower your weapon". But the last thing that John could remember before he passed out was the feeling of Sherlock's cold hands working at the blindfold, then being blinded by light as his rescuer pleaded, "John, are you okay? Answer me!"

It had been two weeks since John had woken up in Sherlock's bed with a concussion, and several stitches across his forehead. His flat-mate had never really explained why he had been in Sherlock's bed and not his own, but John had let that slide. He liked sleeping in Sherlock's bed.

Now he sat in front of the telly on the plush couch that rested in the lounge of the flat with some neglected case files sprawled in front of him, and a muted telly flashing annoyingly in the background. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt long arms reach around the back of the couch then connect against his chest and warm breath against his neck.

"John." The voice rasped seductively.

"Sherlock?" He knew it was him by the cologne that wafted around him as the taller man knelt behind him and leaned forward over the top of the couch. Oddly he was very turned on just by this simple action.

"I need you." His baritone voice whispered, causing his lips to skim across the sensitive skin of John's flesh. His hands had begun to pull up on John's shirt so that his flat stomach was exposed.

"Sherlock, you don't know what you're saying. You're tired." It was true, Sherlock had been working so intently on cases that he had gotten less than six hours of sleep in the past week, but John couldn't resist the urge to reach back and ran his hand through those black curls that this man was famous for. Those soft curls that he could just melt into.

"No John," the man rasped and rose to walk around the side of the couch where he proceeded to crawl on top of John so that he was sitting on his lap with his legs folded on either side of John's thighs, "I have waited for this for so long." His voice was so soft that it was almost just a deep rumble as he leaned forward so that his lips were centimeters from John's lips. John noted, though, that as his flat-mate leaned forward, he could feel Sherlock's erection against his fastly growing one. "Since that first day that I met you." That was when their lips made contact.

John was pushed back into the couch as the larger man leaned against him, his lounge flickering hungrily between his lips, causing him to willingly kiss back. This only excited Sherlock more as his stripped off John's shirt like it was nothing and threw it across the room (which caused something to shatter) and began fiddling with the button of his jeans.

Now fully erect and leaking pre-come, John wish Sherlock would just do it already, but there was once problem: Mrs. Hudson. "Sherlock," John panted and untangled his hands from the man's curls which he had unconsciously tangled in there and grabbed the man he's waited for about three years now's face, "Mrs. Hudson will hear-" the sentence ended in a moan as Sherlock's hand slid down the front of his pants and gripped John's bulge. "Sh-Sherlock-" another squeeze and John lost it: he leaned forward and Sherlock fell backwards off the couch where John landed on top of him, but this didn't last long for Sherlock rolled over which pulled John underneath of him where he pinned his hands and legs down.

There Sherlock was: pinning John against the carpet with his hands and knees, curls hanging messily around his face as a wicked smile crossed his face when he growled, "John Watson, the things I'm going to do to you."

John couldn't wait any longer, he had waited for years. He stretched up and sucked Sherlock's lip with made him fall on top of him while they kissed furiously. John's hands snaked under his love's shirt and paused kissing while he slipped it off his head which made him gasp at the Godly man's body: it was flawless.

Using this opportunity, Sherlock sat back and undid his pants and slid them down to his ankles, revealing designer's brand black underwear that were holding back an eager (and very wet) erection. With a flick of his wrist Sherlock reached into his underwear and pulled out his pulsing length and slid his boxers down so that they were reunited with his jeans.

Awestruck by how large Sherlock really was, John nearly came right there as the other man's penis bounced around while it's owner worked on John's own pants. But John was pulled out of his trance when he felt a hand tighten around his own erection, exciting a very loud moan from his mouth. "Oh, God! Sherlock do me now!" Then he reached up and grabbed those black curls and pulled him to him.

John reached down between their bare bodies that were now rubbing against each other and grabbed the other man's weeping appendage and began forcefully stroking it, using the slick pre-come as a lubricant. It pulsed tantalizingly in his hand as he stroked Sherlock's slit slowly with the tip of his thumb as he created rhythm in his motions.

Abruptly Sherlock let out an un-human growl and grabbed John's biceps and pinned them to the ground once again. "John," he moaned, "oh God John I love you." He stared down at the man with want in his ice blue eyes, "I need you inside of me. Right now." But then something crossed his face that looked like worry and he fell back on his knees, grabbed the closest thing his could find which happened to be John's shirt, and covered himself.

"I am so sorry. I-oh my God- John I-," He was wordless as he looked at the tan, naked man before him who was panting from want, "I-I don't know what came over me- I," he froze, shock playing on his face like he truly didn't know what was happening, "I'm so sorry." Then he stood yanked his pants up so that he was covered and ran off to his bedroom where he slammed the door and John heard him slid down the back of it to land on the floor and begin weeping.

Now there John was, naked with an erection lying on the lounge floor, propped up on his elbows and confused as hell.

Slowly he rose and pulled his own pants up and shivered as he realized it was freezing in the flat. But that could wait: aroused or not, he had to check Sherlock. So he began towards where Sherlock's weeping was coming from, trying to tread lightly but failing as he heard the crying come to a shuddering halt, and approach the door that he knew Sherlock was on the other side of.

He saw from the light leaking out from under the door that he was indeed sitting against the door, so squatting awkwardly (and painfully as his pants tightened around his pleading nether region) John figured he was level with Sherlock as he whispered, "Sherlock?" No answer. "Sherlock what's wrong? What happened?" Still no answer, just the sound of choaked gasps that come with deep crying that someone tries to stifle. "Did I do something that hurt you?" The worried man whispered almost inaudible at the thought that he had hurt the man he loved.

When there still was no answer, John rose slowly and placed his hand on the door for a moment before murmuring, "I love you too, Sherlock."


	2. Fish and Chips

_Hey guys! I am SOOOOO sorry that I haven't uploaded this sooner! I have had finals to study for in high school and college so my brain was fried. BUT NOW IT IT THANKSGIVING BREAK AND I HAVE A WEEK OFF WHICH MEANS I CAN DO WHATEER I PLEASE!_

_*I attempted to upload this earlier but 1. forgot to spell check it, and 2. forgot to put the message. So if you got an update saying I posted a new chapter but there was no chapter there I apologize. _

_**Runs up and hands you fanfiction and runs away giggling**_

With a gasp Sherlock woke against his bedroom door in a pair of jeans, bare from the waist up. His face was red and puffy from tears, that had grown cold on his cheeks and left a rash, his eyes were red from crying, and he had a horrid taste in his mouth.

Sherlock raised his shaking hand to run it through his hair but gave up when he realized just how tangled it was from last night's events, and not wanting to think about what had happened between John and himself, he rose quickly and busied himself with finding a change of clothes for that day so that he could shower.

That was the day that he realized that he loved John, but vowed that if it took starvation as punishment, last night's happenings would never occur again.

It is truly amazing how much someone can actually avoid a subject when they put their mind to it. John learned this as the days turned to weeks, than months as the _Night of the Almost Dream-Come-True _(as John called it). The morning afterwards was the last time it was spoken of, and that was a very brief exchange between the two men that went a little like this: "Morning." "Mhm." "..." "..." "Sherlock, last night-" "Was an accident, and was never intended to happen."

After that Sherlock had barely spoken to John, the only real-time he did was during a case and needed to explain something. It was normal behavior for the consulting detective, but this silence was off. There was something not quite right about it, like he needed to say something-was dying to say it- but couldn't bring himself to.

He had also removed all evidence before John had even gotten up the next day, when he came out into the living room the couch was back in order with its decorative pillows in place once again, all the clothes that had been thrown onto the floor in a hasty stripping were picked up and nowhere to be found and framed picture that usually hung in the corner-the one of Mycroft with his arm slung brotherly over his younger brother's shoulder, leaving a pouting Sherlock was gone. That's what John's shirt had broken.

Now here he was, sitting across the dinner table from this man who had his hands steeped against his lips, staring out the window, lost in thought. Of course, he hadn't ordered anything even though John pleaded, so his company sat there eating a plate of his regular: fish and chips. He normally ate his food in silence without looking at Sherlock, but today he couldn't help it. He sat there slowly raising chips slowly to his mouth while he attempted to figure this mysterious genius.

His face was pale-paler than usual which could mean he was either malnourished again (like he becomes often) or there was something bothering him, and judging by the steeple hands something was bothering him.

After a second more John looked away to pick up his glass of water, and when he looked back he jumped when he found Sherlock's face less than fifteen centimeters away, staring straight at him.

"Bloody hell Sherlock." He muttered and dabbed at the front of his pants that were now wet with splashed water.

"John," Sherlock paused and leaned backwards a bit. Now that John was studying him he realized just how ill he actually looked, "you need to," a pause like he was unsure what he was saying, "you need to stop."

John was concerned about his friend now, he was never unsure about what he was saying, and he always said it with confidence when he said something. As Sherlock began to sway in his seat like he was about to pass out, John jumped up and went around the side of the table and grabbed the faint man as he started to fall to the side-this caused him to be pulled towards John and into his concerned embrace.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" When the man didn't answer John glanced around and saw worried faces as people realized what had happened so he called out, "I'm a doctor, everything is fine." Which caused most to murmur and turn back to their dinner.

Just then John heard a whisper from the man he was clutching and squatted so that he was almost level with Sherlock (now shorter due to the fact that 1. John was short in the first place and 2. Sherlock was tall. And in a chair.), but still holding him with his arm around him and a hand on his leg, "What Sherlock?"

"You need to stop.." he whispered and leaned forward so he was closer to John's confused face.

"Sherlock when was the last time you ate? Hell, or even drank anything?" John pleaded for a sane answer.

"Doesn't matter. You need to stop." Sherlock was acting drunk but John knew for a fact that he hadn't drunk anything because he had been with him all day. But what baffled John the most was what Sherlock was talking about. Stop what?

"Sherlock you need to eat something. Here." John gripped more tightly around Sherlock's back and leaned across the table to retrieve his plate of chips and proceeded to feed them to Sherlock like he was a small child who was refusing to eat his peas.

People in the restaurant were looking at the two men oddly, but John had grown accustomed to getting started at when he went out with Sherlock because the man was known to be rude to others and was found to be beautiful by most women.

After four fries, Sherlock clamped his lips together and lifted his hand with great effort, and tried to slap the plate from John's grasp- but ended up with his hand falling back into his lap due to lack of strength. He was still very pale, and his eyes were unfocused and foggy. John studied him for a moment after he set the plate down and tried to find the source of the problem. His hair hung in lazy curls off the side of his head due to the tilt of it, and his posture was horrid like always. The only thing out of place that John noticed was that the man was shaking underneath of his steadying hands.

"Sherlock you need to eat more. You are ill." John whispered. He was really worried about him, he had never saw him like this before, but Sherlock answered with a small shake of his head. "You irritating man." John hissed and started to rise so that he could call Mycroft, but was stopped when Sherlock grabbed John's hand that was grasping his upper thigh.

"John, stop-" he began.

"Stop what Sherlock?" He groaned louder than meant and caused several heads to turn.

Sherlock's icy eyes finally refocused and locked onto John's own and he gasped, "having this effect on me." Then leaned down and his lips made contact with John's momentarily before he fell into the other man's grasp, unconscious.

John struggled to get the other man onto the floor, but he was pretty much a dead weight. Several people in the diner volunteered to help, and after he was lying passed out on the floor John grabbed his phone and dialed first Mycroft, then an ambulance.

He ran a shaky hand through his sandy hair and sighed. He didn't know what Sherlock had been talking about: 'Having the effect on me'. Was Sherlock saying that it was John's fault that Sherlock never ate? Or was it John's fault that Sherlock had feeling for him? Then what the hell had the kiss been for?

Ten minutes later as he climbed into the back of the ugly yellow ambulance, he realized that Sherlock really felt for him, but was trying to hide it and was failing, and oh how he loved Sherlock.

The small man leaned forward to shift a curl out of Sherlock's face when a small drop of water splashed onto the white linen the other man was wearing . That was when John noticed he was crying.

Have Sherlock say "being so irresistable" and lean down to kiss John before he passes out.


	3. Every Day

_Bear with me guys, I stayed up real late typing this one, and if there are any mistakes, or parts that don't make sense I apologize. But in this chapter you will find out about the title (A Caring Hand), and the overall meaning of it and how it ties in with the gay smut thing. ;)_

_This chapter does have some smut in it (and by some I mean A LOT) so it makes up for the last chapter which was mainly just moving the plot line. That and gay sex didn't really fit into the last chapter, I mean really: did you want me to have them do it in the middle of a diner that probably had children in it? _

_SO HERE YOU FELLOW JOHNLOCKED WEIRDOS GO!_

With a frustrated sigh John turned the telly up, trying to avoid the torturous thudding of crates and boxes being thrown around in the room above. All he wanted to do was watch The Office. He had always thought the American version was better: it had more of a plot-line, plus he liked the actors in it. And right now he was trying to figure out of Jim and Pam were going to finally get married, but Sherlock was moving out for an unexplained reason- and was making a lot of noise in the process.

Just as John was leaning in, willing Jim to kiss Pam, a tremendous crash sounded from above, breaking John's trance and angering him. With a frustrated flick of his wrist John hit the pause button and ran a hand through his hair. _I can't deal with this_; John thought and slowly trudged up the stairs to where it had grown silent after the last bang. When he reached Sherlock's door he tentatively rapped his knuckles on the hard wood said with a catch in his voice, "Sherlock? Can I talk to you?" When Sherlock didn't answer John called again, "Sherlock?"

Finally John just slowly turned the door handle and pushed the door open and peeked in, pressing his temple against the doorframe and was shocked when he saw the room before him: There was several boxes stacked upright, but the rest were thrown every-which-way with their frames smashed and the contents were strewn all over the floor-books and clothing out of their original place, the bed was flipped over- which was probably the result of the last loud thump, and at the far side of the room almost out of John's site, was Sherlock. He was in his pajamas- a skin tight shirt and plaid pants-sitting with his back against the side of the dresser, crammed in between the sixty centimeter space with his knees pulled up to his chin, which rested on top of them and his hands were clamped forcefully on the back of his neck . He was so still he could have been a statue.

Pushing the door open the entire way open John took a tentative step inside and whispered, "Oh my God." He figured that Sherlock had had one of his fits of rage but he had never hid in the corner like this so John was baffled when he gently called, "Sherlock?"

Taking a few more steps forward John paused to push aside a book with his toe, so when he looked back at Sherlock he was surprised when he noticed that he was shaking profusely with his hands gripping the loose material around his ankles for dear life. John didn't know what to think, but he was scared when he went to take another step, so when Sherlock thrust his arm towards John in the universal sign to 'stop', first he jumped, then stopped.

"John I need you to promise." Sherlock's gravelly voice grunted.

"Promise what Sherlock?" He questioned.

"If we are to do this, I need you to promise not to tell anyone." He lifted his head and shifted his body so that it was facing John, staring intently at him.

"Do what?"

"This." Sherlock bolted upright and lunged toward John until he was centimeters away where he paused, then grabbed John's face and kissed him forcefully, causing him to stagger until Sherlock dropped one hand and placed in on the small of John's back and pulled him against his thin frame. He was just about to kiss him back when he remembered last time this happened, and pushed against his chest lightly.

As Sherlock pulled back-John's lip pulling with him- a look of fear crossed his face and he whispered, "John I-"

"No Sherlock," He stopped and reached up to give him a swift kiss, "I need to know that you want to do this for real this time." He looked down at the hand that was on his chin and raised a hand and rested it on his arm.

"Watson I have wanted to do this since I first met you in that morgue. I have been holding it back this whole time, time after time of seeing how much you care for me and take care of me. Just like that other day in the diner. I was going to move," He looked around his dark room at all the boxes then back at John, "and run away from this-these feelings, but I can't take it anymore." With a yank Sherlock pulled John flush against his body. "And if you will allow me, I am going to fuck you like there is no tomorrow."

"I can live with that, I don't want to be just a caring hand." John's face flushed and he felt an odd stirring down in _that_ part of his abdomen.

With a wicked grin Sherlock grabbed ahold of John's face again and kissed him forcefully, and John kissed back, parting the taller man's lips with his tongue and pushing inside. This caused the needy other to reach under the large sweater that John had on and groan when he found that he was wearing more clothes underneath.

"We need to take care of these." He grunted and pulled the sweater off, revealing a gray sweat dress shirt with a tie neatly done up from his recent trip to work. As Sherlock's slim fingers worked with grace at John's tie, the other man reached down and began to undo the buttons with shaky hands. Sherlock, though, was much more graceful and got the tie off and thrown onto the floor before John was even half way done, so he lightly gripped the tan hands so that he stopped, and took over.

Once the shirt fell to the floor Sherlock gently ran his hand across John's bare chest, sending a shiver through his body. There he stood: the man he had wanted for so long, finally allowing him in.

"Help me flip the bed back?" He whispered and got a gentle nod in response.

So the two of them gently flipped the bed back over, with great effort which caused John to wonder how the scrawny man, who he was about to have sex with, flipped it himself. And when they were done Sherlock threw John onto the messed up sheets at stared at him, panting. John could feel his erection growing painfully in his pants and could see Sherlock's against the baggy material of his pants, eagerly pushing against the button holding it back.

Slowly Sherlock stepped forward and placed both knees on either side of John's own and sat back onto the other man's knees. "May I?" He asked and trailed a tentative finger down the zipper of John's jeans.

"Yes-please." John rasped which caused Sherlock to quickly undo his belt then his zipper with lessened the pressure on his erection, but John needed Sherlock to touch him. He'd waited so long for this. "Touch me." John demanded.

Sherlock smiled and raised his index finger, "Let's get these pants off first." Then he slid the remaining of John's clothes off of his and onto the floor, freeing his penis which was almost grateful as it flopped back against his stomach and started weeping pre-come against his tan skin. "There, now isn't that better?" He asked and began stripping his clothes until he was also naked resting on John's upper thighs.

John laid there staring at the beautiful man. The last time this had happened it had gone all wrong, and he didn't want that to happen again-hell he couldn't believe _this _was happening. Was he ready for this?

"What are you thinking?" Sherlock whispered as he looked down at the still man underneath him and absentmindedly began to rub his forearm- a nervous habit he had always had. "John?"

"I was thinking about how much I love you." He answered and reached his arms forward, "Now come here you crazy man."

Sherlock smiled a pure white smile and fell into John's grasp and began kissing his neck furiously and left John moaning as he jerk his head back. He reached his hand down between the two of them and found Sherlock's hard erection and began slowly rubbing it in no particular pattern, but once he had grabbed ahold of it and stopped his barrage of kissing as he pushed himself up so he was hovering there.

Sherlock's body was growing tense as his hips found a rhythm and moved with John's hand, which led John to know that he was close to his orgasm- that and the amount of pre-come was very great now. "John," he grunted and reached down so that he grabbed the quickening hand so that he stopped, "not yet. Lean against the head board." Sherlock ordered and John did as told: he slid out from under the ivory man and propped his head and lower shoulders up on the backboard where Sherlock produced pillows the aid in the support.

Once John was situated Sherlock placed his knees on both sides of John's abdomen and angled his ankles back on the man below him's hips for support. Now his erection was level with John's mouth and he knew what Sherlock wanted.

"John, I want to be inside of you so bad," Sherlock panted as John rested his hands on the Sherlock's hips, "but you aren't ready down there, and I don't want to hurt you…"

"This is fine Sherlock." John impatiently answered. His body was going numb from his blood rushing to his head, and he wanted to please Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed ahold of his pulsing cock and guided it into John's waiting mouth and released a very loud moan as John started working his tongue over the tip. As he was doing this he reached down and started stroking himself with the rhythm he had created with his tongue. Slowly Sherlock pushed his whole length into John's mouth so that John's gag reflex would have triggered, but didn't, so he began thrusting as John sucked.

The taste of Sherlock was odd to John but it turned him on at the same time: it was the salty-tangy taste of his pre-come. A torturous moan escaped Sherlock when John ran his tongue over the vein on the underside of his penis and could tell that Sherlock was going to come soon so he quickened the pace that he was taking it in and out.

Suddenly Sherlock's body grew very ridged and he gasped, "Shit-J-john." And Pulled out quickly just in time to come into a palm-full of tissues that he had grabbed from the nightstand. After dropping the wad onto the floor he slowly lowered himself onto John's chest, reeling from the aftershock of his orgasm.

Once he recovered, he leaned down to kiss a withering John who was still messing with his own erection then whispered, "Let me take care of that." And upon doing so slid down so that his bottom was just above his hand and reached behind him and took the other man's penis in his hand and pushed himself up slightly so that John could put it into his waiting hole.

"Sherlock are you sure?" John whispered and got a smile and nod in return. John raised his hips to reach Sherlock and slowly pushed himself inside the tight ring of muscle and groaned. It was so tight that he almost came right then, but he kept pushing until he was all the way in and froze. "I don't want to hurt you." He whispered and looked down at where the two of them were connected.

"Trust me John; I've waited for this," He grunted and wiggled slightly then closed his eyes, "please?" Then John began thrusting his hip so that he was going in as far as he could, and then back out-and soon enough he felt his orgasm looming. "God John!" Sherlock screamed as he hit his prostate and tilted his head back and growled as John finally came in the other man.

After he pulled out of him, Sherlock rolled off of John and lay next to him gasping. They lay there like that for a few minutes before the taller man whispered, "I'm not going to tell you that I love you-I have never loved before, but I will show you every day."


	4. Texting Sherlock

_Okay all you Johnlock lovers: My Christmas break began Friday, so I began writing this beauty for you. It is a little longer than the others, but that is because you get to witness the texting wonder that is Sherlock Holmes. It is also the last chapter for this story, so I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted :)_

_With all of my love this holiday season, _

_-August-Michael. _

At first when John woke he wasn't sure where he was, but then the man sleeping next to him shifted and slipped his arm around John's bare abdomen with a sigh, bringing the memorize of last night's happenings back. With a gentle smile John slowly rolled over in Sherlock's grasp so that he was facing his new lover and looked up at his slack face. His mouth was slightly open and every other breath release let out a cute little snore that John never expected could come out of such a mysterious person, and his eyes twitched under his eyelids at some unseen dream and John wondered what this man could possibly dream about.

Suddenly a pound pounding sounded from the door of the flat followed by Lestrade's voice calling, "Sherlock I know you're awake! We have a case for you! Come on: open up!"

The abrupt noise startled Sherlock who at first was confused then glanced down at the man in his arms and smiled. "Good morning John."

"Sherlock?!" Lestrade called and reminded Sherlock why he had been awakened.

"Shit." Sherlock grumbled and slid out of bed in search of his lost underwear while screaming, " I'm coming you git!" And once located and slid them on, turned to John and mumbled a sorry before striding out of the room in nothing but his boxers.

The next thing that John heard as he himself began to get up was Lestrade grunting, "Dear god man- have you no modesty?" followed by, "you woke me up you idiot. You're lucky I actually put this article of clothing on." Then the door shutting.

John had located at least Sherlock's pajama bottoms and slid them on just to realize the pant legs were at least 5 inches to long, but he didn't care and slipped out the door and started to make his way down the stairs towards the conversation, "Where's John?" Lestrade quipped as the plop of him falling onto the couch then the thump of his feet as they hit them coffee table. "He at work?"

"Get your nasty shoes off of our table. No he was also sleeping when you came banging on the door like a mad man." He snapped just as John came around the corner to find Lestrade just as he thought he would be. He was wearing a pair a jeans that looked slightly too tight, and a white dress shirt that was topped with a dark blue tie, but instead of looking at Sherlock, he was staring out the window at the drizzling rain. Sherlock was perched on the top of his chair with his legs spread wide and resting on the arms, causing his underwear to reveal a small but of his scrotum, causing John to blush and turn towards Lestrade.

"Morning Greg." John murmured and ran a hand through his hair.

"John, good morning. I see you at least put some pants on." He paused and studied the pajamas that John had slipped on, "Why are you wearing Sherlock's pajamas?" Curiosity spread across his face.

John flushed. Sherlock didn't want anyone to know anything about them dating and John had forgotten that. John was beginning to think of an answer when Sherlock grunted, "I was doing an experiment last night and managed to pour some acid on John's only sleeping bottoms. I kind of felt bad so I lent him mine." He then proceeded to look at John and smile before turning back to Lestrade and frown when he realized that he was studying him. "What?"

"Did you guys say that you were both sleeping?" he questioned and glanced down from the near naked man's face down to his spread legs, then over to John before continuing, "Anyways, I came over to tell you about a case we need you help with. It's the one elevator case- the one where the man was murdered in the elevator by himself." Greg rose and walked toward the door where he opened it and then turned back towards the two men and gave them an odd look before muttering, "Sherlock get dressed and come down." Then left, slamming the door behind him.

Once the door was shut John let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding before, and muttered, "That was close- though I do like your tough guy attitude." And walked toward Sherlock who had gotten off of the chair and was striding towards John,

When Sherlock had reached John he stooped down and kissed him lightly before standing back up and smirking, "You like that do you? Well John Watson there's more where that came from if you want it." He glanced down at his pajama bottoms and John saw that he was beginning to get and erection through the thin underwear, "You are so cute in my clothing."

"Fancy a romp before we go to work?" John asked and smiled- he could get used to this.

"Bedroom. Now." Sherlock growled and chased after John who ran towards Sherlock's bed.

What they didn't know was that Lestrade had never left, he was standing with his ear against the door in the attempt to hear what was really going on: and he had found out.

John looked up from the file that he had been typing on his laptop and sighed. Today was a boring day at the surgery, and with only a few patients with uninteresting cases the required little work, John had nothing other to do then to drag out the paper work he has to do- and he had finished that more than two hours ago. Now he was sitting here revising it again and again in order to have at least something to do.

After staring out the window for five minutes watching the rain patter against the leaves of the tree right outside, his smartphone chirped-notifying that he had received a text. Jumping at the random disturbance, John reached forward and grabbed the phone and checked to see who had sent it: Sherly. With a small smile he realized that Sherlock must have stolen his phone and changed his name in it.

_(12:13 pm) _

_Hello John. –SH_

_(12:14 pm)_

_I see that you got ahold of my phone : ) –JW_

John hit reply and smiled while waiting for a reply which came quickly.

(12:14 pm)

_That's not the only thing I did on your cell ;) –SH_

_(12:15 pm)_

_Oh? –JW_

John was curious as to what Sherlock was talking about, so he hit his home button and began searching through his apps but when the next text came he was clueless.

(12:20 pm)

_Find it? –SH_

_(12:21 pm)_

_No…-JW_

(12:22 pm)

Oh my. What is it like in your tiny mind my dear John? Do check your photos. –SH

There was a knock on his office door, causing John to jump and drop his cell face side down on the desk before turning towards to door to find his secretary standing in the slightly ajar door with Lestrade standing slightly behind her looking bored. "Yes Lily?"

"Sorry if I startled you Dr. Watson, Detective Inspector Lestrade is here to see you." Lestrade leaned around Lily and waved at John, "He says it has something to do with your flatmate." John's phone chirped.

"Yeah it's fine. Send him in." He smiled and she moved aside to let his visitor in then shut the door as John's phone chirped two more times.

"Hey John, how are you?" He sat down in his visitor's chair and crossed his legs with a curious glance at the phone which chirped again.

"I'm fine Greg thanks for asking. So what brings you here- you usually don't show up at St. Bart's unannounced." He questioned as his phone chirped again and Lestrade glanced down at it.

"It must be important. What is that four times since I've gotten here? Go ahead and answer it."

"No, it's fine Greg; it's just Sherlock being Sherlock." He gave a small smile and intertwined his fingers on the desktop. Chirp.

"Go ahead. I have a while before I have to go. 'Sides: it may be relevant to why I am here."

With a sigh John picked up his phone and looked at the screen to find two new images and two texts from Sherlock. When he opened up the texting app he read the text.

(12: 24 pm)

_Oh- Is the Dr. busy? I wonder who it may be. Might it be Lestrade sitting before you in order to question our new relationship? –SH_

_(12:24 pm)_

_It is isn't it? Very well done Detective Inspector. He must have figured it out when you walked out of my bedroom (after a night of shagging) in my pajama bottoms. Tell him what you would like John, but before you do so: do have a glimpse at this picture. –SH_

_(12:24 pm)_

_Jpg.125_

John flushed as he realized what the photo was: a side shot of Sherlock's very erect penis, slick with either pre-come or lubricant, and that vein on the underside bulging out. That was when John's body reacted to the photo, and began to harden. Then John read the message that was attached to the picture:

_I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable while you talk to Greg, but I needed you to see how you make me feel. _

Now that John had a full erection that was very uncomfortable in his dress pants, his face was going completely pale, and he knew very well that the next picture was Sherlock finishing.

With a cough he set the phone down and looked up at Lestrade who was watching very closely. "Everything okay John?" He leaned forward and smirked at John.

Spreading his legs a tiny bit in the hopes to ease the pressure, John attempted to sound annoyed as he answered, "Yeah everything is fine: just Sherlock being Sherlock." He slid his hand up his thigh and gripped the top of his leg tightly, willing his erection to go away.

"Actually that's what I am here to talk to you about: Sherlock." He leaned forward and rested his chin on his knuckles before continuing, "Have you noticed a difference in Sherlock these past few days?" Chirp.

John switched his phone to silent and gripped his leg even harder in the hopes that the pain would make it go away, "I'm not sure what you mean Greg." But John knew what he meant-the sudden giddiness that had taken over the man who was seldom happy, a lack of rudeness towards others, and often a smile that was hidden behind a tough-guy mask.

"Really you haven't noticed? I mean you live with the guy, I'd think you would have. It's like," He paused when John's phone vibrated on the desk then continued, "he has let go of some dark passenger."

"Dark passenger? What do you mean by that?" John questioned and shifted again when he began to feel his heartbeat pounding in his lower parts. This erection wasn't going to go away itself. "Do you think that he was doing drugs or something?"

"I don't know if that was it, but I like the new Sherlock better. He's actually kind of…" A small thoughtful pause, "nice."

With a sigh John looked down at his phone when it went off again and answered, "No Greg I can't say that I noticed anything about Sherlock's behavior. It may be because I have been because I've been busy here at the surgery all week." Slowly John slid his hand down his leg and stifled a grunt.

"Hey you okay John?" Lestrade rose from the chair and looked down at the man before him. Lestrade's phone began to ring in his pocket and answered it with a quick, "yeah." Followed by a sigh, "Sherlock what are you going on about." Before he hung up he muttered an okay and slid the phone back into his pocket.

John ignored the call that was obviously from Sherlock and answered his question, "Yeah Greg I'm fine, just tired." He rose as well, carefully so that his erection didn't rub as much, leaned across the table to shake his hand and once Lestrade gripped his hand he suddenly looked down and John's bulging pant.

"Next time that happens, don't fidget as much." A small smile and handshake later and he was closing the door behind him.

_Dammit Sherlock. _

John reached forward to grab his phone and sighed when he found two more messages from 'Sherly'.

_(1:45 pm.)_

_By about now you have switched your phone to silent right John? Don't want Greg to know about us? Oh but I'm sure he has noticed how uncomfortable you are. Am I right? –SH_

_(1:46 pm.)_

_Hmm… Am I? –SH_

_(1:47 pm.)_

_How stupid of me, of course I am right. I'm always right my love. –SH_

_(1:53 pm)_

_You know you can be a real prick sometimes. I have the hardest boner of my entire life right now and I'm at work. And Greg noticed. And the whole time he was here you were texting me. –JW_

_(1:53 pm) But God I love you! –JW_

Sliding his hand over the giant bulge in his pants, John grunted and stood up once again. He knew that he didn't have any appointments for a few more hours, so he may as well go home and take care of this with the man who caused it… if he was still there- he had just called Lestrade away.

_(1:55 pm.) _

_Hey you still at the flat.-JW_

_(1:57 pm.)_

_No, close though. –SH _

_(1:57pm.)_

_Calling Greg was to just get him away from you. Why, fancy a shag? –SH_

With a smirk John threw all of his files that he needed to look over into his shoulder bag and began typing a text in response as he headed towards the reception desk where he paused and smiled at Lily, "I'm going home for a bit. I'll be back for my four o'clock."

"Sure Doctor Watson."

John continued to the elevator.

_(2:03 pm) _

_Oh I want more that to 'shag', after earlier I think a certain someone needs a good fucking. I'll meet you at the flat in about 15? –JW_

_(2:04 pm)_

_How about 30 seconds?-SH_

Baffled, John stood in the elevator and waited for the doors to open, when they did he walked smack dab into the arms of a black cloak.

"John." The warm wall rumbled with laughter and John smiled and hugged him back.

"Sherlock, I could get used to this you know." He said into the fleece jacket before pulling back to look up at him.

"So could I. So Dr. Watson," He paused and leaned down to whisper in John's ear as the elevator closed behind them, "how about that shag?" and gave the erection that John had almost forgotten about a squeeze.

With a smile John grabbed Sherlock's hand and they bolted out of the doors of St. Bart's in hail of a taxi.

The End


End file.
